"I was about to say, when I was stopped, that I should not think of staying now under any circumstances." "No fear that such a sneak as you have shown yourself to be would be asked." "I think," broke in John, "it would be as well, Mr. Ranger, if you were now to give me some idea what it all means." "Well, I’ll tell you, John. About two months ago I had a private conversation with Fellows, as we were one evening seated outside the homestead. He and I were supposed to be the only two persons present; but there was another listening, concealed in the bushes, who not only overheard all that was said, but sent a report of our conversation at once to Mr. Quinion, at Broadstone in England." "How have you learned this?" asked John. "From Fellows’ mother; who upon calling at Broadstone, by her son’s request, to acquaint them with incidents known only to myself and him, was surprised to find they were already in possession of the information she had come to bring them." "Did they say how they had obtained their information?" "From a correspondent in Canada, who desired that his name might not be made known." "Well, farmer, how do you fix my brother with the writing of that letter?" "That’s my matter," replied Ranger. "You ask that pale-faced hound over there, and let him deny doing so, if he can, without prevaricating." It must be admitted that Ranger was playing "high." He was by no means certain of the ground he had taken up. But, feeling pretty confident in his own mind that the knowledge which had escaped had been obtained by Charles, in the manner indicated, he was determined to see if the fellow could be "bluffed" into an admission of his guilt. Up to the present the attempt had not proved successful, although from the man’s manner, and the assumption of indignation, which sat very ill upon him, and which the shrewd farmer thought he could see through, he felt more than ever confirmed in his opinion that the man was guilty. After Ranger had left, the two men sat silent for some time, smoking, and occupied with their own thoughts. John felt the position was an awkward one. His brother had been practically dismissed. Where was he to go? What could he do to avert it? He knew his brother’s ways too well, and was conscious that it would be no easy task to manage him. But time was pressing, and it was of the utmost importance that whatever was decided upon should be promptly and vigorously carried out. The silence, which was becoming painful, was at length broken by John, who, laying down his pipe, and turning to his brother, said, "This is a rather unpleasant wind-up to our expectations, Charley?" Receiving no reply from Charles, who sat moodily gazing into the fire, he continued, "We’ve been together now ever since we were babies, and although there will come a time when we must be separated, it does seem a pity that out here it should have to take place in such a manner." "Well, who’s to blame?" asked Charles savagely.